


Get It Right

by IrisLizd



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Argentina, M/M, copa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-06
Updated: 2011-08-06
Packaged: 2017-10-22 06:59:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/235174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrisLizd/pseuds/IrisLizd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's kinda like my own feeling after Argentina's losing the game...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get It Right

**Author's Note:**

> I like to make song names titles of my works.  
> I'm a Argentina fan.

What can you do when your good isn't good enough and all that you touch tumbles down?  
Cause my best intentions keep making a mess of things.  
I just wanna fix it somehow.  
But how many times will it take?  
Oh how many times will it take for me to get it right?

Tevez, Tevez! It must be Tevez that Argentineans hated the most besides Batista in this summer.

Finally Alves moved to the exit of the court with the crowd. He didn't want to be spotted, so he chose the seat on the back, which had taken him much time to get out. With the feeling that every fan has after the matches, Alves eventually got sight of his car… and behind the car… Leo?

Although Alves couldn't see his face, but the brown hair, small body, and the uniform tells that he is absolutely MESSI.

Alves spent 2 seconds thinking about what Argentineans would do if they had found their super star sitting beside the car of their 'enemy'-- he stopped his thoughts. Then he put off his coat and covered it on Messi's crouching body, and threw 'it' into the car without hesitation.

July of Argentina was really cold. If Messi kept sitting on the ground like this, he would never be able to get back to Brazil anymore. Alves looked at Messi, who was stilling rolling up as a ball. He stretched his hand, wanting to touch the soft hair in front of Messi's brow, but felt something wet… tears?

'Leo,' Alves got softhearted in a sudden-- this kid could always hit the needle, 'Losing the penalty kick was not your fault.'  
'But I don't want to lose. Argentineans hate failures.' Messi said, with crying tones.

Alves turned speechless. That's right. No one likes failure, certainly not Argentineans.  
As Messi said, Argentineans never wanted to lose. They are mostly proud and overconfident, sometimes even snorty. That's why they don't have Kaka or Ronaldinho, who is kind and welcomed.  
However, Argentina has Maradona, Caniggia, Redondo, and also-- Alves looked at the seat next to himself-- Messi.

There have been lots of legends in Argentina, each of which has lasted for many years. Argentineans enjoy comparing their idols with each other; they even fight for which is the best in the history and never learnt to decline modestly. Argentineans refuse to concede defeat; they never yielded to authorities or shackles. It is its intelligence and ferity that create the sharpest sword of this country.  
The kid-- just call him a kid-- beside Alves, who looked like a nice, shy Spanish boy, however, should be the most perverse, emulative Argentinean.

What a worrisome child.  
Alves wiped Messi's face while waiting for the traffic light and said, 'Just win back next time.'  
'Dani, will you go on tomorrow?' Messi raised his head with his red orbits, not replying Alves's words.  
Alves smiled wryly, 'No I guess.' Maicon looked confident enough to play the whole match. There would not be even a chance for him to warm up.  
Messi thought about his answer for a while, then said, 'I don’t want Brazil to win.'  
Hey, you little kid. Would you say you want Brazil to win if I've told you I'm going on?  
No. If you were to, I wouldn't have told you.  
…… Naughty kid.

This is kind of a little trick of Argentinean. If they couldn’t win, they won’t let their enemy country win. Their pride is like a sword, cursing the opponents even while hurting themselves with methods sometimes ridiculous.  
Is this kind of lovely characteristic of Argentineans?

‘Come, Leo. We’re here.’ Alves drove to the small apartment of Messi, opened the door and asked Messi to get off.  
Messi lied on the seat, seemed not willing to move.  
Alves was clear about Messi’s laziness. Thinking about Messi’s bad mood for losing the game, Alves stretched out his arms to hold him. However, when he turned around Messi’s body, he found that Messi was asleep.

Alves opened the door silently, and put Messi on the bed, kissing away the tear stains left on Messi’s face.

South Americans advocate talents a lot, which is the only way for them to leave this isolated land, heading to the broad way. As well Brazilians like rule obeyers. They believe rules can make a team well-organized. They disdain Argentineans’ ignoring the orders.  
Brazil has also lots of gifted players. But as the home of football Brazil has to do something to be a model. They won’t let the ‘abhorrent Argentineans’ break the beauty of organization.  
But no Argentinean cares that much. They want incredible speed, agile foot works, magical dribbles, and accurate shots.

Those proud Argentineans who never believed in failure put their hope on the 24-year-old boy who’s called genius, making the 170-cm take the responsibility of the nation.  
How can Messi do that.

He had taken part in every important, strong match, running from the front to the back, over 10 thousand meters each single mach, for 90 minutes. No one could make it like this, not even a child like this. If Pep had been here, he would certainly have said NO.  
Thinking of those, Alves get kind of appreciated towards Tevez. His mistake meant that Messi’s summer in Argentina was over; he could go for vacation, watch some matches, or go back to Barcelona.

But Argentineans would never stop talking. After the match Messi still had to be faced with those cameras, questions, and critics. And Messi could do nothing but tolerate.  
Argentineans view superb talent as treasure. They devour it, and never let it get bound up by anything.  
But when the talent cannot bring victory, they become hysterical and curse terribly toward it. They will revile as they once praised.

What disgusting Argentineans. Alves murmured, standing up wanting to get a cup of water, suddenly got pulled on his clothes.  
‘Dani...’ Messi mumbled, turned around and fell in sleep again.  
Alves smiled. At least, this little Argentinean is lovable. He carefully put Messi’s hand back in the quilt, and whispered beside Messi’s ear, ‘I’m here, Leo. I’ll go get some water for you, OK?’  
Just like talking to a baby. Alves thought with a warm smile on his face.

Messi didn’t wake up till the morning light. He spent a while thinking about how he got home. He walked out of the bedroom, while Alves was cooking breakfast with his favorite blue pajama on.  
‘Morning, Dani.’ Messi rubbed his eyes and said.  
‘Morning, Leo.’ Alves was in a good mood. What a wonderful shiny day.  
It was just like a normal morning in Barcelona without morning exercises.

But this is Argentina. Argentineans have endless work and endless words.  
When Alves began the newspaper time he got regret in a sudden.  
Messi got the fried egg and put it into his mouth, getting another newspaper-- it was too late for Alves to take it away.

What the fuck! He cursed himself. The sad faces of last night was painted on the front page with offensive small and big titles accompanied.

Alves sat beside Messi with great care. He put away the newspaper from Messi’s hands, getting sight of Messi’s full-of-tear eyes.  
‘Ignore those shit, Leo.’ Alves got the paper, wanting to throw it away.  
‘Just let it go,’ Messi said, ‘It’s okay, Dani.’  
Is this his Leo? Without burst of tears or temper lost? That’s it? Alves turned to him speechlessly, questioning himself if this was some kind of silly dream.

‘Leo,’ He got closer to Messi, ‘those are just bullshit. No need to worry about them.’  
‘I’m fine with it, Dani.’ Messi raised his head, still carrying some tears in his eyes. But he looked at Alves calmly, ‘WE lost.’  
Alves stared at him for a long time as if he had been stranger from Messi.  
Messi smiled, ‘This is Argentina, Dani.’  
Alves felt grieved.

Argentina, Argentina. A year ago, just one year ago, he was still a child who was shy in front of the cameras, who would cry for critics, who felt angry and swore to win back after losing a game.  
But a year’s world cup, and a year’s copa cup, how could they make Messi someone cold and grim? He had tolerated all those stress and sadness. Now he could just talked calmly in front of flash lights and microphones.  
Argentina, as his motherland, how can you be so cruel and strict? Having frustrated his spirit, planished his edges and corners, and mostly, even juveniles had been coming out, are you satisfied with all of this?  
Alves was angry, staring at Messi without a word.

Messi stood up and kiss him softly.  
Alves hold him tight, as if he’s to put Messi inside his body. He ravaged Messi’s mouth and lips, didn’t stop until Messi had to lean on his arms to keep balance.

Argentina, only Argentina can be more important than him or Barca in Messi’s mind. Alves thought despondently.

There is nothing more for Argentina to be proud. The veldt is its bones and blood, while football is its soul. It survive with the veldt; it continues with football.  
And Messi, he has to keep the bond that unwilling to be covered up down. Argentina never cared about how dark the way would be or whether there would be anyone to support. It hands the task to the chosen one, making him head to the misty hope.  
Despairing and Cruel.

They loved each other, played in the same club, while born in two countries in hostility. Alves thought, should he cry or laugh?  
He pushed Messi’s head inside his arms, feeling Messi’s hand turning around his wriest.  
‘Dani...’  
‘What?’  
‘It’s good to have you here.’  
‘......’  
‘I love Argentina, so don’t be angry with it.’  
‘Uh-huh.’  
‘We’ll win next time. We’ll defeat Paraguay, Columbia, and Brazil. We’ll win the copa cup and world cup.’  
‘Okay.’ I’m waiting for it.

So I throw up my fists  
Throw a punch in the air  
And accept the truth that sometimes life isn’t far  
Yeah I’ll send out a wish  
Yeah I’ll send out a prayer  
And finally someone will see how much I care

We’re all here waiting, for you to get it right.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a Argentina fan after all


End file.
